


When It’s All Over

by unappetizingegg



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Dadza, Gen, Lots of Angst, Psychological Trauma, i never know how to tag these!, i'm not vouching for any of these thought processes displayed here they're all questionable at best, questionable morality, tubbo has had a few tubbo moments one might say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28131972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unappetizingegg/pseuds/unappetizingegg
Summary: Tubbo had barely been able to sleep. That first night, he’d gone home determined to succeed in his quest for justice, determined to bring Technoblade back again and this time punish him once and for all. But as he lay awake, he recalled the words Ghostbur had spoken to him:“You’ve not changed, have you?”alternatively:Tubbo has, in fact, changed. He doesn't like who he's become. He goes to the only person he can think of who might be able to help him.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Phil Watson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 105





	1. PART 1 - Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU, based off of the characters in the Dream SMP, not the people who play them. Please understand that the personalities I attribute to these people do not correlate with who they are in real life, but instead are based off of the personalities they roleplay with. None of this is real, it is entirely fiction.
> 
> That being said I also recognize that I’m using the names and aliases of real people, so I will not be writing any sexual content in this fic. If that is what you are looking for, I would recommend you search elsewhere.
> 
> This will be a two part short story based on the events of the DSMP streams on December 16th, 2020.
> 
> All that being said: Please enjoy!

The night was quiet, quieter than it had been in a while. Usually, the pathways of L’manberg would house one or two groups of people, even during the middle of the night. The wind would whistle through the alleys, drifting in from the sea, bringing in the salty smell of the water with it. Everything had been stiller since the failed execution of Technoblade.

Tubbo had barely been able to sleep. That first night, he’d gone home determined to succeed in his quest for justice, determined to bring Technoblade back again and this time punish him once and for all. But as he lay awake, he recalled the words Ghostbur had spoken to him:

_ “You’ve not changed, have you?” _

What had he meant by that? Of course he hadn’t changed. But as he lay awake, plotting their next attack on Technoblade’s base, he started to see what Ghostbur might have meant. Why was he so obsessed with getting revenge? When Techno had been fighting with them, and nearly killed him on orders from their deadliest enemy Schlatt, he’d forgiven him then. He hadn’t wanted revenge, he’d understood that his friend’s hand had been forced into action, that he’d shot Tubbo to create a distraction and get them all to safety. He’d done what he’d believed what was right, no matter the potential life that could have been lost.

What was so different this time?

The more he thought, the more he understood. For days, he pondered how Technoblade could justify his actions. Instead of plotting and scheming their next move, he thought about how Technoblade had merely upheld the principles he’d made clear in the first place. Instead of meeting with the other members of the hitman group, Tubbo spent hours, alone, slowly realizing that maybe he had changed after all.

The old Tubbo wouldn’t have hatched a plan to kill in revenge. The old Tubbo would have found a different way. The old Tubbo didn’t enjoy fighting or death or watching people be crushed and hurt and in pain. The old Tubbo loved his friends and wanted nothing more than for people to love him as well, and looked up to many of them, and would do anything to show them how much he cared. The old Tubbo wouldn’t have exiled the best friend he had, and pushed away the father figure in his life, and distanced himself from everyone he’d ever cared about-

The night was so quiet.

He found himself on Phil’s doorstep.

He didn’t quite know how he’d gotten there. The walk was short, but he could barely remember leaving bed. How had he ended up here?

He hesitated, his knuckles suspended over the wooden frame, ready to knock. It was so late, so so late, and Phil hadn’t been speaking to him, and he’d messed things up between them, but who else was he supposed to go to? He had cut ties with everyone who would listen, and everyone he spoke to now would lose their confidence in his leadership if he was to show any signs of weakness. He’d been battling silently with Quackity and Fundy for weeks, aware of the fact that if he gave them any ground, they’d step in and claim his spot. He didn’t trust them enough to give up his leadership to them.

But how could he even talk to Phil now? He’d put him on house arrest indefinitely, nearly murdered his son in front of his eyes, exiled his other son, and now he was running to him for comfort? It wouldn’t be fair to expect any advice from the man he’d turned on so easily, the man who’d practically been his father. 

As he withdrew his fist, ready to turn away, the door opened in front of him. There stood Phil, a stern look on his face, his eyes locked in on Tubbo. The boy shivered. It was not a kind stare.

Silence hung between them. Tubbo didn’t know what to do. Should he just turn around and leave? How had Phil even known he was here? If he walked away now, would Phil even say anything?

The quiet broke when Phil said, “I’m assuming you need to come in.”

The word ‘need’ stuck out in Tubbo’s brain. Usually, Phil would have said ‘want’ instead. That privilege, of being able to visit when he wanted to, was gone. Now, he could only come when he needed to.

“I need to talk about something. Please.”

He watched the man’s features soften, his creased brow easing, his hard stare becoming kinder. He almost looked like the Phil that Tubbo used to know so well.

The door was opened further, and without another word, he was ushered inside. He walked in awkwardly, standing in the middle of the room. He’d been here many times since it had been built; he’d sat by the fire, at the table, up on the balcony on the second floor, even slept on the rug when it had been later and Phil had been too worried to send him home. Now, he just felt out of place, a waste of space.

“Sit.”

He watched Phil gesture to the table, and he sat at one of the chairs, waiting silently as Phil busied himself around the room. The kettle was put on without a word, and two mugs brought out. He still waited, staying quiet, worried that if he uttered even a word, he’d be kicked out on the spot.

“Well?”

That seemed like the prompt for him to speak, but when he opened his mouth, there were no words in his brain. They just wouldn’t come out. He heaved a breath, his eyes brimming with tears. What could he say? ‘I’m sorry’ wasn’t enough anymore, and it hadn’t been for a long time. He’d been blinded by his own stupidity for too long, and now he had trapped himself in.

His vision was blurry as the tears began to spill down his cheeks, but he could see Phil move to crouch in front of him, a hand falling to his shoulder. He looked down at his lap, unable to even think about making eye contact with the man he’d so clearly wronged, it was all so clear now. How could he have been so idiotic?

“Tubbo, breathe,” he heard, and he gasped one in, nodding his head in agreement. Yes, he could do that. He could be good and breathe right now. “Focus on breathing, there you go. Breathe. Good.”

He nearly lost it again. ‘Good’. When was the last time someone had called him good, had praised him for being good? It had been so long. He held it together, forcing himself to calm, fixating on Phil’s instructions. He wanted so desperately to be good, to hear that gentle praise again and to feel cared for. He wanted someone to care as much as he did.

One of Phil’s hands was carding through his tangled hair, pushing it out of his face, and he ducked his head further to try to hide the pain he was in, but his shaking shoulders gave him away. He hadn’t had someone touch him or hold him or be there for him for far too long.

He could feel Phil wrap him up in a hug, and it only made him cry more. It felt good, so good, to just be held again, to have someone he trusted be there for him. Where had it all gone so wrong that he’d lost this easy comfort?

The next thing he could remember, he was sat in front of the fire, a cozy blanket wrapped around his bony shoulders, a cup of tea cradled in his blistered fingers, his back pressed up against Phil’s legs as he sat in his big, comfy chair. Phil’s hands were still in his hair, and he closed his eyes, just reveling in the feeling, soaking it all in, desperately trying to remember every second of it so he could recall it again later when he’d lost it all again.

“Talk to me, Tubbo,” Phil said gently, his tone so different from before when he’d first seen him, “I need to know what I can do to help. I want to help you.”

He searched again for the words that would describe the turmoil that had festered in his head, but they alluded him. Instead, he settled for, “I’ve messed up and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“You have messed up,” Phil conceded, “You almost killed my son in front of me. I wouldn’t have survived that.”

Here came the tears again. “I’m so sorry, Phil.”

“It’s not okay, and it will never be okay,” Phil said softly, his words harsh but his tone gentle, “But we can work to mend these broken bonds if you try.”

“I want to. I feel so lost.”

He heard the man hum thoughtfully behind him, “I can help you find the way again. Why did you do it? You tricked him. He’d been trying to move forward, Tubbo. I’d been working with him, getting him away from the violence. We’d been living peacefully for a month, a full month. I know Techno has done horrible things, but he never once betrayed you. He made it clear that his priorities lay with his beliefs, not with us. I understand that isn’t how you and I work, but it’s always how he’s been. It is your own fault for convincing yourself he wouldn’t turn on you the second you didn’t stand on his side.”

“I know. I have had time to think about it. I was so stupid.”

“You weren’t stupid, no, you made sound, smart decisions as a president. You did well, Tubbo, you tried so hard to be a good leader, but you lost yourself in the process.” There was a pause, and then, “Tubbo, today Ghostbur told me he thought that Wilbur might have chosen Tommy, and then you, for president as a final act of sabotage. I don’t think either of you are cut out for leadership just yet.”

Tubbo felt sick to his stomach. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that he left a 16 year old as the President of a broken country on purpose. He gave you the power because he knew you weren’t equipped to handle it. No one should expect you to know what you’re doing, and the fact that you’ve been able to lead as well as you have up until now astounds me. I am proud of you despite the mess that’s been made. You’ve hurt me greatly, but I see that your own priorities have shifted as well. No wonder you feel lost. Wilbur was more lost than you are now. He’d gone down a path that I see you turning towards, and I can’t lose another son. So please let me help you.”

Another son. Those words rang in Tubbo’s head, banging back in forth in his skull. He couldn’t hear what else Phil was saying. Another son.

“Tubbo?”

He blinked rapidly, trying to quell the next round of tears. He was so exhausted, he’d cried too much already and he was nearly out, but somehow hearing Phil call him his son was pushing that boundary.

“You called me your son.”

He heard the man huff out a snort, “You  _ are _ my son. You always have been. We need to get you out of here. Something about this place, something about being president here, it does something to your head. You need to get far away from here, and I know just the place.”

He couldn’t mean- “Surely not-”

“He’ll listen to me, he always does. Let me talk to him when we get there. I’ll handle it.”

“Phil, I just tried to kill him-”

“You need to get away from here. We’ll go stay with him just for a few days, and then find you someplace better. You and I can set up somewhere nearby him.”

He turned his head and looked over his shoulder, up at Phil. The man was looking back at him, and the pain in his eyes made Tubbo’s heart hurt. “I can’t just leave. I can’t just run away. These people need me.”

“Tubbo, this country has been doomed from the start. It has never been a peaceful place. There will always be people trying to maintain control, or gain power, or take over. Dream has manufactured this land to be violent and chaotic. We need to retreat. There’s no saving L’manberg.”

He stared up at him, his mouth open but no words were left to say. He knew Phil was right. There was no way he could save this country. Quackity was already on the verge of taking over his position as President, and surely there were others who wanted to be in that spot as well.

“He’ll kill me.”

Phil just shook his head. “He won’t. Techno trusts me and my wishes. If I talk to him, he’ll listen. I promise you. Please trust me on this.”

Did he trust Phil? He did. He did trust him. “Alright.”

“Good. Now, do you have a way of getting this monitor off of me? We need to leave now while we still can.”


	2. PART 2 - Forgetfulness

The air was freezing cold, snow pelting down in thick sheets. Tubbo squinted even harder, his hand gripping Phil’s arm as they waded through the waist high snow.

He was miserable, but he felt lighter, as if just getting away from L’manberg was helping him. Perhaps it was. Maybe that was all he needed to do.

Phil was doing his best to shelter the teen from the onslaught that mother nature had brought on, but he knew that his attempts were futile. Still, they were almost to their destination. They would be fine. He wished that the skies hadn’t decided to blizzard while they were travelling, but it was far too late for that wish to hold any bearing now. They’d been battling the cold for over an hour.

Tubbo nearly jumped for joy when he saw the lights in the distance, the twinkling lanterns that signified they had almost made it. Suddenly, he could barely feel how freezing he was, and how dry his eyes were, and how the muscles of his left legs were cramping horribly, because they were almost there.

They doubled their pace and were there in no time, but it was then, on Technoblade’s doorstep, that Tubbo realized the situation he’d found himself in. Here he was, on his number one sworn enemy’s porch, about to ask to stay the night. This man had almost killed him once, and almost did again just days ago when he fought back.

Phil knocked before he could voice his concern. It was too late, he was stuck. He didn’t have anywhere else to go, anyways. Phil had been hell bent on bringing him here.

After a few moments, the thick door swung open, and there he was. He was dressed down, in just a shirt and pants, his crown and robe discarded and his armor forgotten. The sleeves of his tunic were rolled up to his elbows, his skin marred by scars from countless battles. His long hair was tied up messily in a bun, high at the back of his head, a pair of small spectacles perched precariously on his nose, almost threatening to slide off.

He smiled at first, seeing Phil standing before him, before his eyes drifted and landed on Tubbo. Before he could even move, he was pressed up against the wall of the house, a pocket knife against his neck, and Techno was so, so close, breathing in his face, his lip curled into a snarl.

“TECHNO!” Phil yelled, running over and trying to pry him off, but the knife pressing closer made him back off. “Let him down, right now. If you hurt him I’ll never forgive you.”

“He tried to kill me Phil, in front of you.”

“I know.”

“Then why the fuck would I just let him down? What’s he doing here?”

“I brought him here. Let him down and I can explain.”

“You BROUGHT HIM HERE? What, are you insane?” The power in Technoblade’s voice made him shiver.

“Let him go. If you kill him now, I'm gone.”

Tubbo hadn’t even noticed he was hanging above the ground, the collar of his shirt clenched in the other man’s hand, tugging him up so that his feet floated over the porch. He closed his eyes and braced himself, sure that Phil had just brought him to his death.

When nothing happened, and the only noise that rushed through his ears was that of the wind blowing up a storm, he cracked an eye open. Technoblade was still up in his face, still staring at him menacingly, but his grip slackened and Tubbo was about to push him off, his landing sloppy as he stumbled to stay upright.

The snarl of dissatisfaction that left his opponents mouth made him wince.

He looked up to see the man storm back into his home, leaving the door open, and he glanced at Phil, who reached out to him. “Come on now, let me do the talking, stay close,” Phil said to him, and he took his hand and allowed himself to be pulled into the small house.

When the door was shut, the deafening wind was blocked out, only a few rattling windows and doors a sign of the storm outside. Inside, it was quiet, the crackling fire in the hearth the loudest thing in the room.

Technoblade was facing away from them, his forearms resting on his kitchen counter as he stared out the window, bent over slightly. Tubbo wished he could see his face.

“Explain Phil.”

Phil took a deep breath and pushed him behind himself, “He needs our help, Techno.”

Techno whipped around at lightning speed and slammed his palms against the counter’s island, “He tried to kill me, Phil, he nearly did-”

“You almost killed him as well.”

Techno slammed the counter again and Tubbo flinched wildly at the loud sound as it bounced around the room, his hands curling tighter in the back of Phil’s coat, “That was a completely different situation. I was planning on keeping him alive. I needed to follow through to ensure Tommy and Wilbur’s safety. This man just wanted me dead-”

“This man? He is a child, Techno. A child. He’s been given insurmountable amounts of power at such a young age. He needs help, we need to help him and get him away from all of it.”

“I don’t care how young he is, he’s still responsible. He’s acting the role of an adult so he is one.”

“Techno, imagine if you were a president at 16. Imagine 16 year old you, leading an entire nation, a nation that had just been blown to smithereens. He had nothing to start with. He had no training, no knowledge, no experience, just imagine-”

The man snorted, “You’re asking the anarchist to imagine himself in a position of government. Phil, listen to yourself.”

“You and I both know Wilbur created this whole situation by design,” Phil replied icily, his eyes narrowed, “He wanted us all to burn. He put a child in charge so that, even after he was gone, they were doomed to fail. How can we hold him fully responsible?”

“I trusted him, I trusted them all, and they all betrayed me,” Technoblade said, his voice cracking. Tubbo peaked out from behind Phil and was astounded to see  _ the  _ Technoblade, the fiercest fighter of the land, crying. His eyes were filled with tears and his lip was trembling. “I lost Tommy, he would never listen to me, would never trust me enough to hear what I had to say. So stuck up and sure of himself that he never heard a word I said. I lost Wilbur, he chose death over us. He begged you for release and left us all to waste away in his wake. He never cared, Phil. I can’t trust anyone, I can’t. The second I do, I regret it. And you’re asking me to forgive this tyrant?”

“He’s as lost as you are, Techno,” Phil said softly, and Tubbo let him go as he stepped forward. He watched as Phil pulled his son into a hug, letting the younger man bury his face in his shoulder, “You will never lose me. I am always going to be here. I don’t expect you to trust him, I don’t ask you to forgive him, but I do ask you to let me help him. He needed an out. Without it, he wouldn’t have survived much longer. You and I both know what leading in L’manburg does to people, we’ve seen it first hand. Let him stay just a few days, and then I’ll get him out, and you’ll never have to see him again. Just you and me. I’ll never bring him here ever again.”

There was a vast moment of silence, in which Tubbo stood hunched over, watching Techno hide his face away as he held Phil tightly. The tension in the room hadn’t eased, but there was something about watching Techno be vulnerable that made Tubbo feel a little safer.

When Technoblade finally stepped away, the only evidence of his emotion was the red that lined his eyes. His gaze met Tubbo’s as he stepped away from Phil and to the side to get a better look at the young boy, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “I’m doing this for him, not for you. Don’t get it twisted. Don’t get comfortable. You are not welcome here.”

“Techno,” his father warned, but the man just waved him off and walked off to the hearth, picking up a fire iron and pushing the burning logs around. Tubbo made eye contact with Phil, who smiled tiredly at him, “Come now, we need to get some sleep. You can stay with me. Techno made me a room here.”

Once they’d settled together, Tubbo lay awake, his eyes open as he stared at the ceiling. He sighed. The little hope Phil had given him had evaporated. Techno was right; there was no way he was worthy of being forgiven. But when he looked over at Phil, who was laying there next to him, his face slack as he slept, he felt a bit of that hope flutter back into his chest. He could start over. He could still be given a chance. Maybe he could be 16 again.

He closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.


End file.
